


Enchanted Wood

by Iverna



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 05:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10155572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iverna/pseuds/Iverna
Summary: Canon divergence, set during 6x11, in which Emma finds a slightly different way to get home.





	

The grove is empty, its magic spent. No more enchanted wood; no more realm-crossing wardrobes.

Instead, there’s Killian Jones, and he looks...

Well, he looks a little bit like she feels: tired and worn down and determined not to let on. True to form, he refuses to yield, even when August—Pinocchio—manages to disarm him. He draws himself up, chisel in hand, and eyes his opponent, a familiar set to his jaw.

“Now we duel.”

He lunges towards Pinocchio, who raises his stolen sword.

Emma reacts before sword can meet chisel. “Hook, stop!”

Her magic bursts forth to send Killian flying back. He lands on the leaf-strewn ground, the impact rolling him onto his back, and lies still.

Emma lowers her hands, a mix of disbelief and fond exasperation coursing through her. From all appearances, Killian’s life has taken several turns for the worse, but one thing hasn’t changed: the man doesn’t know how to give up.

“Wow,” she says, shaking off those thoughts before she dwells on them too much. Before she starts wondering what kind of life he’s lived over the past twenty-eight years. She lowers her hands and walks over to him, casting a glance at a still-bemused Pinocchio as she goes. “I think it’s time to go home and get someone off the rum. And the dessert.”

Part of her wants to keep him here, to wake him up and reassure him, maybe talk to him. Until now, she’s been too busy trying to get home to have time to miss Killian, but now she’s looking right at him, and the fact that it’s not really him only makes it worse.

She needs to get back home.

“Sorry, Hook,” she says, summoning her magic. “I think it’s time to go back to the—“

She breaks off, suddenly thunderstruck. The _Jolly Roger_. The ship on which Killian has crossed realms and outrun curses. The fastest ship in all the realms, if he’s to be believed.

Made of enchanted wood.

Emma’s mind is racing. The conclusion at the finish line is already making her cringe, but this world isn’t real. This version of Killian isn’t real, and neither is the ship.

She purses her lips. He’s going to kill her.

Then again, this world isn’t real. Her parents are waiting for her at home, alive and well. Everything else will be, too.

“Pinocchio,” she says, very carefully. “This wardrobe... it doesn’t have to be built from a tree, does it?”

 

*  *  *

 

It’s probably the strangest act of piracy in history. Emma is willing to bet that no one has ever commandeered a ship in order to strip off part of its deck. She can’t help but feel a little bit guilty, too; it’s the second time that Hook is losing his ship so that she can go home. But strange or not, guilty or not, it works.

And Emma is home.

She doesn’t tell Killian about it until much later. The question of where they got the wood for the wardrobe is one she can easily gloss over when she tells the others what happened. Between the shock of Robin’s reappearance and the other details of the wish realm, no one asks about it.

But, eventually, there’s a quiet moment. And, eventually, Killian stops being outraged at his sort-of counterpart long enough to realise, “Wait. If there weren’t any more enchanted trees in the grove, how did you get home?”

“Uh...” Emma hesitates, wrapping her hands around the mug of cocoa she’s made. It’s a quiet evening, just the two of them and the setting sun slanting across the kitchen table. She’d really, really like it to stay like this. For hours, or maybe even days.

“Emma,” Killian says, his tone and expression changing as he realises that he’s stumbled onto something. He leans forward a little, bracing his forearms on the table. “What did you do?”

“I, uh. Well, like I said, I’d knocked you out. Again. Which I really am sorry about, by the way.”

“Aye, that seems to be some sort of rule, doesn’t it?” he says with a rueful smile. “Whenever we meet, I end up getting knocked out, tied up, or plain stabbed in the back.”

She cringes. “We have seriously got to stop jumping around to different worlds and times and...” She waves her hand, not sure what the realm she was just in even qualifies as.

“I quite agree with you there,” he says. “Personally, I rather prefer this one.” He grins at her, then cocks an eyebrow. “But we’re getting off track. You were telling me how you managed to find a way home.”

“Yeah.” She takes a breath, and then comes out with it. “So I’d knocked you out, and I was gonna just poof you back, but then I thought... and we sort of... ransacked your ship.”

His scowl is immediate and, it seems, instinctive. “You _what_?”

There’s no going back now, so Emma hurries to explain. “We... I remembered what you said, about how it— _she’s_ made of enchanted wood. It was the only thing I could think of. So we dismantled part of the main deck, and the bowsprit, and used that to make the wardrobe. I mean, it wasn’t real. Not really. Your ship’s still here, and she’s fine, right?”

His expression changes as she talks, the scowl melting away, replaced by a look she can’t quite identify, a little slack-jawed. “Ah.”

“Ah?”

“That’s...” A smile edges onto his face. “Good thinking, love. I’m impressed.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You’re impressed that I stole your ship?”

His smile is full-blown now, eyes bright. “Let’s be honest, love, if anyone was going to manage that, it would be you.”

She can’t help giving him a smug smile at that, and that seems to delight him even more. He laughs, and then he reaches for her hand, his fingers warm and callused and familiar as they wrap around hers. “I’m glad she gave you a way home.”

_You traded your ship for me?_

She looks at him, at the man who found her, fought for her, brought her home. The man who, somehow, is always _there_ , with exactly the thing she needs to keep going.

Emma knows better than to try and put any of that into words, or try to thank him for it. She doesn’t need to.

She puts her mug down so she can wrap her other hand around his, too. “Me too.”

She doesn’t need to say any more, because he hears it regardless. And in response, he gives her that smile, the one that lights up his entire face, like he’s just been handed the keys to the universe’s treasury.

Emma laughs and shakes her head. “You’re the only person I’ve met who’ll praise someone for stealing your ship.”

“Only you, love, make no mistake,” he assures her. He lifts their entwined hands, and bends his head to press a kiss to her knuckles.

Then he looks up at her, blue eyes piercing through inky black lashes. He winks. “And you know I’m quite enamoured of your piratical side.”


End file.
